


here in my arms

by megamegaturtle



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Did I mention FLUFF?!, F/M, Fluff, moments in bog's life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 11:08:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5125259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megamegaturtle/pseuds/megamegaturtle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moments in Bog's life where he wakes up to the ones he loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	here in my arms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Selkie_de_Suzie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkie_de_Suzie/gifts).



> So, this was a birthday gift for Suzie! I posted it last week on tumblr, but now I'm posting it here!! :)

He’s running fast, little twig legs carrying him as quickly as they can go on uneven terrain.  Behind him, young Bog hears the monster breathing loudly, the snuffs and huffs grazing his still growing wings. He speeds up, each breath like knives stabbing his lungs as he keeps going.

He feels helpless and weak as he runs in a straight line, sprinting towards anything that looks like an exit in this dark maze. The Bog Prince doesn’t dare look back over his shoulder to take a good look at the beast chasing him. He already knows what it is: the Bonemuncher who eats little boys who’ve wandered too far from home. 

_I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I just want to go home!_

While panicked thoughts flood his mind, the little prince doesn’t have the time to sort through them. There is only here and now and all he’s trying to do is get home safe. When his world starts to tilt, the beating of the heavy stomps becoming louder and louder as they shake the earth. Bog lets out a horrified scream, hoping that it will drown out the sound of the monster chewing on his bones. But as his surroundings begin to fade and the shaking refuses to cease, he hears a voice he’d recognize anywhere. 

* * *

“Boggy,” the voice says, low and deep yet as always gentle, “wake up, son.” 

With a gasp, The Bog Prince sits up rigid, clutching a claw at his thumping heart, swallowing air like he’s never tasted it before. His eyes adjust to the darkness of his bedroom, the familiar furniture already coming into view. To the side of him, his father leans in close and drags him into a hug, smoothing the boy’s hair with a large hand. 

“Pa’s here now. It’s okay.”

Though he wishes he wouldn’t cry, Bog can feel tears pricking at the corner of his eyes and his breathing becomes shaky as he tries to speak. “It was the monster,” he hiccups. “It was the monster again.” 

Pa rocks them back and forth, holding his child close in his embrace. “He didn’t get you though,” his father points out. “And I’ll stay with you for the rest of the night to scare him off if he tries to come back.” 

Wordlessly, young Bog nods and scoots over in his tiny bed so his father can nestle under the covers with him. He giggles when his dad’s feet hang off his bed, but his father just grabs him and tucks him under the family’s sharp chin. 

“Sleep now, Boggy,” Pa says. “I got you.” 

And as he has every time he’s had nightmares, The Bog Prince sleeps peacefully knowing that Pa is right there.

* * *

It’s a rare morning when Bog finds himself waking up to warm sunlight and not his mother’s shrill voice. Not that he doesn’t love his mom–he does, but not before he’s had breakfast. 

Stretching in his bed, Bog enjoys the way the moss feels on his newly molted skin. Having growth spurts are rough when you’re eleven, but a soft blanket feels the best on new skin, he reckons. As an afterthought, he flaps his arms up and down the bed in search of a soft friend,but each thump is empty. 

Scowling, Bog flips over and hangs off the edge, peering upside into the shadows under his bed. With a long arm, he slides his hand across the floor a bit before he grabs what he was looking for. 

“Stony,” he scolds to the old toy. “You have to stop falling off the bed.”

Old Stony stares at him with a sown smile and polished back eyes with no words to say. Bog stares back for a few moments longer until a large smile spreads across his face. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll try not to knock you off anymore.” 

Bringing the stuffed toy to his chest, Bog burrows under his blankets to find a few more moments of sleep, enjoying the calm of a lazy morning.  He hums a little, his mind thinking of new adventures to play when he’s done with his lessons as he drifts off to sleep again, his most prized possession tight in his hold.

* * *

It’s the middle of the night and Bog has flipped and flopped on his bed for what he thinks to be the hundredth time. With a sigh, he opens his eyes and stares at moonbeams that flood his room, folding his arms under his head as he’s lost in thought. 

He knew that love made people do stupid things, but he didn’t think that meant that it would stop him from sleeping.

 _You’re lovesick, son_ , his mom told him, her eyes bright and her smile more like herself than he had seen in recent years.  _Just like your father, let me tell you. So lovesick for me he couldn’t_ eat _!_

The young Bog King rolls his eyes at the memory, slightly annoyed that his mother is getting so caught up in his love life, but thankful enough to know that it makes her happy. That’s all he could ever ask after how hard it’s been on her since Pa died.

_Your father was the most lovesick goblin I’d ever met!_

Speaking of lovesick, Bog turns his mind back to creature who is making it positively impossible to sleep or do anything productive. Young sweet Mayfly, a goblin so lovely with her amphibious skin and plump lips. He grins softly to himself in privacy of his room, remembering the sound of her loud laugh and how vicious she gets when she’s in a fight. 

 _Gotta keep all these fools in line, you know_ , he recalls her saying.

He glances at the side of his bed and he can’t help but entertain the thought that  _yes, she’d be wonderful to wake up to_. His face turns completely red after that, but he tries to keep his thoughts pure and hung up in the idea of cuddling and sweet kisses and nothing more. 

After sometime,  his eyes become droopy, his heart warm and full with lovesickness, he imagines what it’d be like to hold her every night.

  _She’s definitely the one for me_. 

* * *

He wakes up suddenly, discovering that he fell asleep at his desk again going over reports. Standing up, he cracks his back and then his neck, his tired bones stiff and achy from another night in the office. Checking the time, he lets out a small curse before exiting the room.  

The castle sleeps as The Bog King makes his way to his chambers with no particular thoughts in his head besides work. No daydreams of games to play as he is no longer a child. And certainly no lofty and unattainable images of a lady love as he  _hates_  love. 

No, his mind just circles with how much food they have in storage, new trade agreements with the west, and declining the recent wedding invitation from the Fairy Kingdom. He pauses for a moment just to ponder the action. While he knows it’s just a formality, did they except him to come to a wedding for the Crown Princess? 

“Bah.”

Entering his room, he makes a beeline for the bed, not even caring that he’s not under the covers as he buries his face in his pillows. Stony is long forgotten and so are the happy daydreams of wanting to hold someone close. 

Bog–no–The Bog King falls asleep as cold, miserable, and guarded as he woke up that morning. The same as he has done for the last ten years. The same he plans on doing for the next ten years.

_Who needs love anyway?_

* * *

It’s the gentle rain on the skylight that wakes him, the pitter-patter reminding him of little bug feet during a swarm. He’s warm, Bog thinks lazily, his mind still drifting between sleep and reality. He wants to move his left hand so he can relieve the itch plaguing his nose, but he determines that it is…stuck.

Or better yet, occupied as he looks down and sees Marianne cuddled up close to him, clutching his arm in her hold with a leg tossed over his for good measure. 

If that didn’t declare ownership, he didn’t know what did. Not like it mattered, he’s hers after all just like she’s his. (Though, Bog feels like Marianne has more pull in the relationship–not that he’d ever tell her that). 

With a sleepy smile, he uses his right to brush wisps of hair out of her face and stare at awe for a moment that this is actually real. That despite that she’s soft and wonderful, warm and welcoming, she’d rather be snuggled up in his bed than any handsome fairy in all of her lands. Which he has to consider, being more handsome than him is no hard feat because faeries are inherently beautiful, gorgeous creatures that are universally acknowledged to have said beauty. 

But she’s here and she’s here with him and his heart swells so much he feels like his chest plate might actually split in two to make room for it’s expanding size. With a content sigh, presses a kiss to her sweet little forehead and revels in the miracle that is Marianne, his Tough Girl, his fairy princess. 

 _I love you_.  _So much_. 

She softly snores and shifts herself until she’s right under his famous chin. Bog tries not to laugh as he gathers her close to him and she lets out a little sigh of her own and she cuddles back. 

With the help of her soft snores and warmth lulling him back to bed, Bog gives her one little squeeze just to test one more time this is real and not a dream. 

Her frame is solid in his hold and he nestles back into the bed, happier than he can remember when sleeps takes him, relishing in the fact that she’s sleeping in his arms. 

_She’s all I’ll ever need and that’s all I need to know._


End file.
